For the Love of an FBI Agent
by EnvysMistress
Summary: Series of Drabbles, not necessarily connected. Peter/Neal Slash. Some onesided. Some Mature, so blanket rating. As of 3/12/13, not motivated to write more. I'm sorry, but I'm in a Rise of the Guardians/Lorax/Bones funk right now.
1. Drabble1: Confessions of an ExConman

**For the Love of An FBI Agent**

_Drabble #1: Confessions of a __Conman__ Ex-Conman_

Neal sat at Mozzie's bedside, head in his hands. Finally, he looked at the coma patient.

"Hey, Moz. I've been here since they let me in this morning. It's been two days since you've been shot and had your surgery. I miss your sarcastic wit already, bud." Neal halted his rambling and sighed dejectedly. "Mozzie… I have a problem. I think… I think I may be in love with Peter."

Neal stood and paced around the small hospital room before heading to the window. The ex-con stood there, staring into the crowded nightlife of New York City, his sleeved rolled up sloppily to his elbows, shirt untucked, a few buttons undone. The FBI consultant's hair was a mass of untamed curls, drooping into his eyes. As he ran a tired, work-worn hand through the mop of hair, he sighed again frustratedly.

"No; I _don't_ think I love him, Mozzie… I _know_ I love Peter."

And with that, Neal fell silent, standing by the window unmovingly, until a few hours later when Peter Burke came to take Neal to the office. And Peter would never know of Neal's love.


	2. Drabble2: Rainy Days

**For the Love of An FBI Agent**

_Drabble #2: Rainy Days __and Mondays_

The melancholy sky drifted overhead, crying swollen tears of sorrow and pain upon the land, mirroring the emotions of one Neal Caffrey. From the conference room in the White Collar division of FBI New York, the consultant stared up at the silver-coated clouds floating in the sky. At the moment, Neal was trying not to think, to have his mind drift off towards yesterday's events. Yet, he knew that one day, he would have to face the horror he had witnessed.

Damn Fowler!

Neal was this close to snapping, to hunting Fowler down himself and putting a bullet through his skull, to taking revenge on the man that harmed his closest friend, the only one who _knew_. Despite his hatred of guns, Neal knew where he could easily acquire one, a gun assembled to be untraceable, and he would plan to use it to kill OPR Agent Garrett Fowler.

However, Neal knew Peter would be disappointed with him. As Special Agent Peter Burke would be throwing Neal back into prison, he'd have that look on his face, the one that made the hardened criminal/conman (ex, he told himself), Neal Effing Caffrey, want to beg for forgiveness, for Peter to hold him close and say that he was forgiveness and that it would never happen again if Neal upheld his own side of their agreement.

So all Neal really could do was to continue to stare out that window, into the rainclouds, and take deep, calming breaths while thinking of possibilities for the next case he'd consult on. And as he sat there, all he could think about was how ironic it was that for once, the weather matched his mood.


	3. Drabble3: Secrets

**For the Love of a FBI Agent**

_Drabble #3: Secrets_

Neal can remember when he first had the pleasure of laying eyes on Special Agent Peter Burke, mustache and all. He had just cashed in his forged Atlantic bonds at First Unity Bank in Midtown and was standing off to the side with Mozzie. He had just shown Mozzie the money when he overheard someone asking the bank manager about possible forged bonds.

"Uh oh," Moz said. "The fed's are snooping about. We should really get going."

Neal handed over the cash to the goatee-clad man, keeping the green lollipop. "Hold up a second, Moz. I've never met a fed before."

Neal walked up to the federal agent and smiled. "Hey. I just heard you talking about counterfeits and, well, I just made a withdrawal." Neal wrung his hands in a falsified version of nervousness.

"Your money is safe, sir. The forgeries are bonds." The mustache fluttered a bit as a strong breeze blew through the street.

"Well, I have some bonds at home. How do I know if those are forged?" Neal watched the man. The fire in his eyes and the twitch of his lips when he was deep in meaningful thoughts intrigued him.

"Your bonds should be safe. I'm just trying to solve a case here."

"Thank you, Agent…?"

"Burke, Special Agent Peter Burke." Peter held out his hand and Neal shook his firmly, loving the feel of the man's leathery hand muscles tensing under his own silky one.

"Thank you, Special Agent Burke, for all your hard work." Neal handed over the sucker. "This is for you." Neal grinned that charming 'you love me and if you didn't you do know because I'm irresistible' grin that he seemed to naturally produce, and then walked off towards his apartment, not looking back. If you had asked him then and there if he thought he'd ever meter Peter Burke again, he would have most likely answered no; he'd never see the fed again.


	4. Drabble4: Once Conned, Twice Sly

**For the Love of an FBI Agent**

_Drabble #4: Once Conned, Twice Sly_

Neal shifted uncomfortably on Peter's porch, waiting for the door to be opened. He had come to confess about stealing 'Young Girl with Locket' back. He had already started forging the portrait, his hands still lightly stained with the paints he'd used. Neal knocked again and this time someone shouted, "I'm coming! I'm coming!'

Peter opened the door in complete surprise, not expecting Neal to be out this late, or waiting on his porch to talk with the federal agent. "What are you doing here, Caffrey? It's nearly midnight." He growled.

"I came to confess… I stole the painting back." The ex-conman grinned sheepishly, afraid of what can of whoop-ass he may have just opened.

"You _WHAT_!" Peter was angry. Not the_ 'Oh, I'm mad at you, but I'll forgive this later when your puppy-dog look breaks me' _anger, but more like the _'I'm furious, and you are in so much trouble that prison will look like Disney World when I'm through with you'_ anger that was more of a rage, and it was all aimed at Neal, who nearly ran away, his self-preservation warring with his unofficial oath to be honest with Peter.

"I took it, but I was going to give it back." Peter glared at the FBI consultant, who quickly amended that statement. "Okay, I was going to forge it and give the forgery to the gallery while the original is given to the woman it rightfully belongs to." Peter grabbed Neal's arm and the FBI agent dragged him into the house, pointing at the couch. The man was so furious that the ability to speak had temporarily left him. "Peter, the portrait belongs to Julianna. There was a note on the back from Haustenberg, dedicating the painting to her grandmother. The forgery will look the exact same. Please understand, Peter. The Law is not always Just."

Peter, finally calmed down enough to be a semi-normal human, scoffed at the ex-con. "So we should take the law into our own hands? Well, since I don't truly believe prison is enough of a lesson for you, I suppose I'll have to deal with you myself."

With that, Peter hoisted Neal up and threw him over his legs, butt raised slightly into the air. "Hey! What are-?" Neal protested, squirming as he tried to get off of Peter's lap, but it was no use.

"No; you're taking the law into your own hands and so am I." Peter raised his flattened, open hand and brought it down on Neal's backside. However, instead of the expected complaint of pain from the pretty boy, Neal moaned in pleasure.

A bit freaked out, Peter stood, dropping the blushing CI to the carpeted floor as he shouted, "What the hell was that, Caffrey?"

Neal stood and dusted himself off, face a brilliant brick red. "Um… I, uh…" Peter had never seen Neal so speechless and shaken. "I'm masochistic." The consultant whispered before his mask slid shakily back on. "I bet your files didn't tell you that," Neal joked with a nerve-wracked smirk.

"No, that's not on file." Suddenly, Peter got a wickedly smug look on his face. Neal had migrated away from the federal agent and Peter beckoned him back over. When Neal was planted directly in front of him, Peter looked the man straight in the eyes. Neal's lids shuttered as he saw his own lust mirrored in the eyes of the one he secretly loved.

And then they were both leaning in, their lips touching, their tongues dancing, and both men knew they were screwed big time. Literally.


End file.
